


With What We Are

by Eloarei



Category: Hanna Is Not A Boy's Name
Genre: F/M, Prose Poem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-07
Updated: 2012-11-07
Packaged: 2017-11-18 04:32:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/556934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eloarei/pseuds/Eloarei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh, this discovery was the most beautiful betrayal she'd yet known, the discovery that she could love again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With What We Are

**Author's Note:**

> //This is our last chance  
> Give me your hand  
> because the world is spinning at the speed of light
> 
> The night is fading  
> Heart is racing  
> Now just come and love me like we're gonna die//

Oh, this discovery was the most beautiful betrayal she'd yet known, the discovery that she could love again. Running through the night, hand-in-hand with a fledgeling vampire, as if fleeing from morning itself, she should have been frightened to death of the probable apocalypse that chased their ragtag team, should have been racing through her mind for a frantic solution, or cursing her fates and the freakish blood of her family, but all she could think was how well his hand fit in hers. Like a puzzle-piece snapped together, long after she'd thought she'd lost her only precious jigsaw match. 

The perfection of it presented itself to her presently as if it were the very Truth of the world. What did it matter that their lives were in danger, that they had become prey in a dangerous hunt of prejudice, for his hand was soft, and she knew now, suddenly, that it embodied the essence of her soul, for they were alike. 

It became clear to her that they would survive. Although the entire Earth may have been against them, time longed to see them through to the very end of its own existence, and their curses, cursed so many times in terms both colorful and bleak, would take them there. If she simply held on a little tighter, dragged him forward with the newfound power of her revelation-- 

\--she glanced to her left to take him in, tasking her ears to follow the footsteps of fellow misfits, and nearly stopped for shortness of breath at the sight of him-- 

\--later or sooner, he would see as well that their curses were blessings in disguise. And maybe he would finally smile, to greet the end of time with her, so much a relief it would be from the fear of solitude eternal, and so much so that this life would become beautiful again. 

A tear slipped down her cheek, in hope, in exhilaration, and she thanked the watchful moon for folding their frightened, frightful forms into her embrace, and vowed that they would soon waltz beneath her in gratitude. 

Until then, she would run, hard and fast, his hand in hers, and love the story that unfolded beneath their synchronized steps.

**Author's Note:**

> Something a little different from me. This is a pair I'd never written before, but it popped up like a poetic sandstorm in my head a while back. I wrote it in two sittings, so I hope it flows well enough.
> 
> Mostly, I couldn't help but imagine some split-second scene like this whenever I listened to the Ke$ha song "Animal" (come now, don't make that face-- it's a nice song), so I had to finish it or be forever haunted.  
> You know how it goes.


End file.
